


Desperation

by latin_cat



Category: Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latin_cat/pseuds/latin_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perkins in a predicament.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperation

  
“Fuck!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I need a bloody piss!”  
  
“What, _now?_ ” Hagman’s eyes flickered to where Colonel Lawford was wandering down the ranks of the Light Company, inspecting the men minutely, Captain Sharpe in step beside him, both trailed by the RSM. “Can’t you hold it?”  
  
“I’ve been holding for bloody ages!” Perkins whispered fiercely, an edge of panic to his voice.   
  
Dan Hagman swore silently, cursing the boy’s weakness, but also wondering how he could get the lad out of this one. Sharpe and Lawford were getting closer… and then he had an idea.  
  
“Ben,” he said. “I’m sorry, but bear with me.”  
  
“Sorry?” Perkins frowned and looked at him confused.  
  
At which point Hagman swiftly turned and thumped him hard in the guts, making the young man bend double in pain, then straightened back to attention as if nothing had happened.  
  
“Just play along,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “And remember to groan.”  
  
Perkins, straightening as best he could despite the agony of twisting guts and a bladder fit to burst, could not see how he could forget. Meanwhile, Lawford had drawn level with the riflemen, walking along the line sedately, approving of what he saw until he came level with Perkins. He stopped and frowned.  
  
“Captain Sharpe,” he said sternly. “What is the matter with this man?”  
  
Sharpe looked and saw that Perkins appeared to be decidedly unwell, his face blanched white, a fixed look in his eyes and his posture bent forward slightly. He looked as if he were about to either faint or be sick.  
  
“If you please, Colonel Lawford, sir,” It was Hagman that spoke. The old poacher’s eyes were fixed forward, his posture as rigid and correct as any redcoat’s, putting on his best English for the Colonel. “He’s ill.”  
  
“Ill?”  
  
“Yes, sir; think it was something he ate last night. Been off colour all day.”  
  
“Why did the surgeon not excuse him parade?”  
  
“Surgeon wouldn’t see him, sir.” The surgeon of the South Essex was well known for being unsympathetic to the rank and file; and even to the officers. “Said he probably had wind or somethin’ and a good fart’d cure it, if you’ll pardon my French, sir.”  
  
At which point Perkins moaned softly, and not purely for dramatic effect.  
  
Hagman risked a quick glance at Sharpe, and he could tell that the captain was by no means convinced. He had not expected him to be; Mister Sharpe had pulled too much wool over officers' eyes during his time in the rank and file to be easily fooled - but the act was not for him, but the Colonel.  
  
Lawford’s face on the other hand was flooded with concern.  
  
“Indeed? Well yes, I can understand that.” He turned to Perkins. “By all means you have my permission to fall out. Go and lie down, man; rest up. Anyone can see you are in no condition to stand on ceremony.”  
  
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Perkins said weakly, still doing his best to stand to attention.  
  
Sharpe gave the two riflemen a decidedly dirty look before moving on, yet Hagman kept his gaze and posture perfectly correct. There would probably be hell to pay later, but for the poor lad next to him later did not matter.  
  
“Rifleman Perkins!” The RSM called once the officers were a safe distance away. “Fall out!”  
  
“Thanks, Dan,” Perkins whispered as he vacated his place in the file, clutching his stomach and hobbling away towards the nearest cover.  
  
“Any time, Ben. Any time.”


End file.
